Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones (1745)

It is interesting to notice that some central ideas of Crusius’ philosophy are based on the work of his teacher, Hoffman, who, for instance, invented the notion of thelematology or study of human will, the topic of the first book of Crusius we have studied. Crusius’ work Entwurf der notwendigen Vernunftwahrheiten, wiefern sie den zufälligen entgegengestellt werden also starts with a very Hoffmanian notion: metaphysics is a study of necessary truths, both of those which are necessary as such and those which are necessary, if we assume or posit the existence of a world. He does exclude some necessary truths from the realm of metaphysics: those of practical philosophy, where necessary and contingent truths are difficult to distinguish, and those of mathematics, which are simply too numerous.

Crusius’ definition might seem rather uninteresting: after all, Kant said that this had been the idea behind traditional metaphysics. Yet, once we look at e.g. Wolff, we see him defining metaphysics through certain topics and even including such disciplines as empirical psychology in it. Indeed, it seems more likely that Kant was accustomed to the way metaphysics was defined in Hoffmanian tradition - more specifically, he had read Crusius - and now just transmitted this idea further.

Although Crusius speaks against defining metaphysics through its topics, he does divide it in accordance with them. We are probably not surprised to find ontology and natural theology as parts of metaphysics, and by speaking of metaphysical cosmology, Crusius appears to just want to restrict the traditional discipline of cosmology to necessary truths and exclude e.g. laws of movement. A more unexpected name on the list is the so-called metaphysical pneumatology. It roughly plays the same role as psychology in Wolff’s metaphysics. Yet, unlike psychology, pneumatology is said to study only the necessary essence of spirits. What is especially missing is an account of the human soul and its relation to body, since it is not necessary that there are embodied spirits.

Although necessity is then an important feature of metaphysics for Crusius, this does not mean that he would want everything in it to be demonstrated. In other words, he distinguishes between necessity in an ontological sense from certainty. This means that even mere proofs of probability suffice, if demonstrations are not available. Indeed, Crusius adds, they might be even needed, when the demonstrations are available, because common people might not be prepared for the intricacies of complex demonstrations.

I shall still deal in this post with some general facts about the first part of metaphysics or ontology, leaving more precise details of Crusius’ ontology and the other parts of his metaphysics to further posts. The topic of ontology, for Crusius, is the most general features of all things. This means, he explains, that whatever things were given, a keen mind could discern the whole ontology from them. Indeed, he says more generally, whatever the topic of a metaphysical discipline, we could in principle discern everything of that discipline from an instance of that topic.

Ontology, Crusius explains, must then deal with the simplest concepts possible. This simplicity is not the same as simplicity in what we can sense, such as the simplicity of colours, which we can distinguish from one another without being able to explain their difference. Such sensuous simples are only simple, he adds, because we haven’t yet been able to analyse them further. The ontological simples, on the other hand, are the result of an analysis, and we know we cannot analyse them further. Still, we can distinguish even these ontological simples, because they play different roles in the analysis of complex things.

Next time, I shall begin a study of one of these simple concepts, namely, the notion of a thing.

Georg Friedrich Meier: Figure of a true philosopher (1745)

Meier’s philosophical work has so far been refreshingly different from what German philosophers of the period in general have been doing. We’ve already seen Meier tackle with the topic of humour, and now he will attempt to paint the picture of a true philosopher in his Abbildung eines wahren weltweisen.

Meier’s motive for writing his work is to eradicate prejudices laymen have against philosophers. Problem is, Meier says, that there are innumerably more philosophers in name only than there are real philosophers. By painting a general picture of a true philosopher Meier aims at silencing critics who fault philosophy for quirks of individual would-be philosophers.

In addition to this advantage of marketing philosophy for non-philosophers, Meier’s image should also serve philosophers themselves. It should serve as an instruction manual for becoming a philosopher and as a measuring stick, with which to evaluate development of oneself and others, even if no human being could ever completely fill the shoes shown in Meier’s image.

Meier borrows Baumgarten’s definition of philosophy as the highest science, concerning general properties of all things, which can be known without the help of faith. Meier admits that a perfect knowledge of philosophy cannot be reached by mere humans, but only by God, who knows literally everything. Meier’s image of a true philosopher takes into account the necessary limitedness of humans: true philosopher, he says, does not try to know more than is humanly possible. Furthermore, a true philosopher knows that humans have more important duties than learning philosophy, like serving other people.

Although humans cannot know everything and shouldn’t spend their lives solely with philosophy, within these limits the true philosopher tries to emulate the divine omniscience, Meier notes. This means, firstly, that the true philosopher should have extensive knowledge of all philosophical disciplines and other fields of learning. This does not mean that they should know everything in an equal fashion. Instead, Meier says, the true philosopher should choose one discipline that they learn extremely well. Thus, different philosophers could specialise in different topics.

Meier remarks that the true philosopher chooses the easiest route to knowledge. Thus, they do not try to learn all by themselves, but read philosophical books and listen to other philosophers. Still, they will also themselves strive to enrich the field of human knowledge with their own investigations.

Not all truths are of equal value, Meier says, but some are of more value and nobility than others. Some truths of lesser value even a true philosopher must know - some of these form a sort of philosophical ABC - but they should strive to know the more valuable ones. Nobility of a truth has nothing to do with it concerning concrete topics, Meier notes, although common people often discredit abstract truth as worthless. Indeed, he continues, the true philosophers are the best to recognise what sort of truth is noble. Meier himself points out two characteristics of such truths. Firstly, such truths and their consequences touch upon many important things, like religion, state, virtue and the happiness of whole humankind. Secondly, knowing noble truths requires more effort, while common truths are easy to know.

In addition to nobility, Meier adds, the true philosopher has to know fruitful truths, that is truths which have many useful consequences. In other words, the true philosopher is no bookworm, but knows what’s most helpful in different walks of life. Then again, Meier insists that all truths could be deduced from other truths and are in principle equally useful. True, we humans cannot always recognise such connections, but the true philosopher should still be ready that a seemingly useless truth will prove to be important for someone else.

Clarity is also a virtue of a true philosopher, Meier says. This means, firstly, that they try to use logic for clarifying what they know by finding signs required for defining things. Meier notes that this is not to be regarded as pedantry. Indeed, the true philosopher is not a mystic, who delights in inclarities. Still, Meier adds, the true philosopher know also the limits of definition and understands that everything cannot be defined so clearly. Thus, they are no charlatans who would offer mere tautologies, when definitions cannot be given. The true philosopher is especially keen on making their own special discipline as clear as possible, leaving petty things undefined.

Meier follows Baumgarten in accepting that clarity means not just logical acuteness, but also strength of representations. Thus, Meier wants that the true philosopher should not try to perfect just their understanding, but also their imagination, wit and other faculties. In other words, the true philosopher should be an aesthetician, who can tell beautifully and vividly about the things they know.

An evident, but quite crucial side of a true philosopher is, Meier emphasises, that they try to be as correct as is humanly possible. Again, this is not completely possible for a human being, but the true philosopher tries to at least minimise the possibility of an error by choosing wilful ignorance over an unfounded dogmatism. In other words, the true philosopher is no blind sectarian.

Truth for Meier does not mean just that something is correct, but also orderliness. Hence, he wants that the true philosopher should also know things in an ordered fashion. This means that the knowledge of the true philosopher is regulated in accordance with the highest principles of knowledge - principles of non-contradiction and sufficient reason. The knowledge of the true philosopher is so ordered in a hierarchy of disciplines, where some are dependent on more general disciplines.

In addition to having clear knowledge, Meier continues, the true philosopher should have a clear notion of knowing these things. In other words, they should be certain of their knowledge. The way to make one’s knowledge more certain, Meier says, is to demonstrate it, of if that is not possible, to back it up with lesser justifications. Of course, full certainty is not always possible for a human being nor is it a guarantee for the truth of something. Thus, Meier admits, the true philosopher is ready to accept things only hypothetically, until further evidence clears the matter.

Meier is also adamant that the true philosopher should put their knowledge into practice. In principle, Meier says, this could be done with any knowledge. Yet, it is especially true about knowledge concerning ourselves, that is, anthropology, which Meier takes to be of utmost importance to the true philosopher. Furthermore, he continues, the true philosopher should take the duties of practical philosophy seriously and find in them motives for their actions.

Meier also notes the true philosopher should have good motives for learning philosophy. We have already mentioned one of them, namely, that of emulating God and thus perfecting oneself. In addition, he remarks, the true philosopher is motivated to help others, and in general, to work for the good of the whole humanity.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - Serving others

Wolff ends this hodgepodge of a book with the notion of servitus. Wolff’s definition of servitus might at first seem rather difficult to comprehend - servitus is a right one has to a thing of another person. The idea becomes clearer when we move from this abstract level to more concrete examples. One particular instance of servitus is such where a person is allowed to walk or ride through another person’s estate to their own. Other types of servitus might involve a right to hunt in neighbour’s land, right to collect nuts or berries from it or a right to draw water from a well in it.

All the examples just given involve estates in a more rural area, but there are forms of servitus that are appropriate to more urban living areas. Thus, in one type of servitus a building may use the wall of another building as a supporting structure. Furthermore, the examples have all been affirmative in the sense that they allow a person to do something to the thing of another. Another type of servitus is negative in the sense that it involves a right to prevent an owner from doing something. For instance, an owner of an estate might be prevented from building a too tall building that would obstruct the view of the neighbour.

Majority of servitus are, Wolff insists, based on the free choice of the owners of the things in question. Yet, he admits, some of them might be obligated by the natural law. For instance, an owner of a building should take care that neighbouring buildings still receive enough light for normal proceedings of life. Thus, a building owner might be obligated into a servitus, where their neighbour is able to demand the placement of windows on their building, so that light can come through to the neighbouring estate.

All the examples of servitus presented thus far have been what Wolff calls a real servitus, that is, they involve relations between two estates. This type of servitus remains valid, even if the owner of the estate changes. A completely different is the case with what Wolff calls personal servitus, which is tied to a certain person and is cancelled e.g. if the person in question dies. A good example of this type of servitus is usufruct, in which a person is allowed to use a thing belonging to another person and even gather profits from it, as long as the thing in question remains substantially same.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - Pawnshops and mortgages

Next topics in Wolff’s natural right are jus pignoris and jus hypothecae. The basic idea behind both is the same: a debtor pledges something for the creditor as a surety of the debt. In other words, if the debtor will not pay the debt at agreed time, the creditor has a right (jus) to sell the pledged thing to cover the remaining debt. In case of jus pignoris, the pledged thing is literally handed to the possession of the creditor - think of a pawnshop - while in jus hypothecae, the pledged thing is not and perhaps even cannot be transferred to the possession of the creditor - a good example is a mortgage loan, where the debtor uses their home as a security for a loan. In case of jus hypothecae, the pledged thing can also be something that does not yet exist, such as fruits of the next season.

The main point in both jus pignoris and jus hypothecae is then the creditor’s right to sell the surety, unless the debt is paid on time. Wolff notes that this is a conditional right, and if the creditor tries to sell the surety before the debt was due, the creditor loses completely the right to sell the surety. Furthermore, he notes, the pledged thing should be sold for a fair price, and if the money received from the sale exceeds the debt, hyperocha or the excess is to be handed to the debtor. Then again, if the money received is less than the debt, Wolff adds, the debtor is to provide the rest in some other manner.

If no one is willing to buy the pledged thing or if all buyers offer inadequate payments, Wolff continues, the creditor can also take the pledged thing itself as a payment of the debt. Then again, the creditor need not do this. In the latter case, if the debtor has no other way to pay the debt, the creditor should just wait for finding a suitable buyer. Then again, Wolff concludes, at some indefinite point the creditor just has to accept the ownership of the thing as a payment.

Pledging something does not change its ownership, Wolff reminds the reader. Hence, the debtor has the right to sell or otherwise transfer the ownership of the pledged thing to someone else. If the debtor does that, this does not infringe upon the creditor’s right to sell the thing, if the debt is not paid. Similarly, the creditor has the right to transfer the jus pignoris or hypothecae to someone else, for instance, by simply handing a pawned item to someone else’s possession. The creditor can also pledge the thing pledged to them to someone else, as a security for their own debt. In this case, Wolff notes, the debt of the original creditor should not be more valuable than the debt of the original debtor.

A person can pledge only such things as they own, Wolff explains, but they can pledge things as securities for debts that belong to someone else. If someone pledges a thing that does not belong to them, without the consent of the owner, the creditor does not gain any rights to it and has to restitute it to the owner. Then again, if the owner does deliver the pledged thing or otherwise consents, the pledge becomes valid. Furthermore, Wolff notes, a thing belonging to someone else can be conditionally pledged: “if it becomes mine”.

The creditor is obligated to take care of the pledged thing in their possession, Wolff notes. If something happens to the thing due to the creditor’s fault, they must repay any damages to the owner of the pledged thing. Indeed, Wolff adds, the debtor has no obligation to even pay the debt, if the pledged thing is damaged so gravely that it cannot be sold for the debt. Then again, if the damage happens, although the creditor has been diligent in taking care of it, they owe nothing to the debtor.

The care of the creditor for the pledged thing extends even to paying the necessary expenses for its maintenance. If the creditor has been forced to pay such expenses, the debtor is obligated to repay them to the creditor. Then again, creditor has no right to make any unnecessary investments to the pledged thing without the consent of its owner, even if these investments were useful.

The creditor is usually not allowed to use the pledged thing or to take advantage of its products: such an action constitutes then a theft. Then again, Wolff notes, in the so-called antichretic pact such a right is explicitly conferred to the creditor as a substitute for usuries. Even then, the use of the thing and the profit gained from it should not be more valuable than the usuries would be. Furthermore, Wolff points out, antichretic pact cannot be made concerning things that deteriorate when used.

If debt in question is somehow resolved, Wolff notes, whether by the debtor or someone else paying it or by the creditor annulling the debt, the respective jus pignoris or hypothecae is also cancelled. Yet, jus pignoris or hypothecae can also be cancelled, even if the debt remains in force, for instance, if a pawnbroker gives the pawned item back to its owner. Another way to cancel jus pignoris or hypothecae without canceling the debt occurs when the pledged thing is destroyed or lost. Wolff also notes that the last clause doesn’t necessarily hold when it comes to houses, because a right to a house extends to its very foundations, which still remain, even if house is destroyed.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - The art of removing obligations

After having gone through in detail various ways in which obligations are created by contracts, Wolff decides to investigate how such obligations defined by contracts are terminated. For instance, if the contract in question is dissolved by mutual consent of all parties, all the obligations defined by it dissolve also: if a sale of a thing is cancelled, the former buyer is not obligated to provide money nor is the former seller obligated to deliver the thing. Wolff notes that if the contract in question is unilateral, such as a donation, it can be cancelled just by the person benefiting from the contract.

The most straightforward way to terminate obligations determined in a contract is just to provide whatever has been agreed upon. Once this is done, Wolff emphasises, the other parties have no right to exact anything further because of this contract. Whatever the contract says about the obligations, they must usually be fulfilled to the letter: if I should give you my house, I cannot give you money instead. Similarly, if I am due to pay something at a certain date, I can be compelled to pay when that day arrives. Of course, Wolff adds, deviations from the conditions imposed by the contract are allowed, if the other parties of the contract agree to that. For example, if my creditor allows it, I can provide only a partial payment at the agreed date and promise to give the rest later.

Wolff notes that while sometimes it is certain what obligations have been determined in a contract and who is the person supposed to fulfill this obligation, at other times this is not so certain: in the former case, Wolff speaks of liquid debts, in the latter case of illiquid debts. When debts are illiquid, no one can be compelled to pay or fulfill them. Thus, debts should at first be made liquid by investigating the exact terms of the contract in question.

Wolff considers also several more detailed questions pertaining to debts. For instance, what happens to obligations of a person in debt, when their creditor cedes the debts to someone else (the person in debt is now obligated to pay their debt to this new creditor, and if they ignorantly pay to the original creditor, they must give up the right to demand the payment back to the new creditor), what happens if someone else pays your debts without you mandating them to do it (they can do so and you are not legally obligated to pay them back, but it is morally right to do so, if the terms of debt were clear and the person in question did not wish to make a donation), and what if someone gives a thing they do not own as a payment and the creditor consumes it (the outcome depends on whether the person in debt and their creditor knew the debtor was not the real owner).

Debts can also be annulled, Wolff notes, either by a declaration of the creditor (this is called acceptilatio) or by a contract between debtor and creditor (this is known as pactum de non petendo). Such annulment can happen for all of the debt or only a part of it, furthermore, it can happen unconditionally, but also with other conditions attached such as other obligations to be provided instead.

A peculiar case of annulment of debts is what Wolff calls compensatio, where two persons are in debt to one another and both of their debts are annulled. Compensatio has various preconditions, for example, the debts should be equally valuable. Furthermore, if any of the debts involves a unique thing (e.g. if one person is obligated to give a certain house to the other person), compensatio is impossible. Debts must also be liquid, that is, one must be certain who owes and what is owed.

Debts can also be taken care of, Wolff says, by datio in solutum, that is, by providing something else than what one was obligated to provide. This replacement can be anything agreed with the creditor: a thing, use of a thing or some work. Datio in solutum frees debtor from the original obligation, that is, if the debtor would later have a chance to fulfill the earlier obligation, they need not do it. A more general version of datio in solutum is what Wolff calls novatio, where creditor and debtor agree to replace a prior obligation with a new obligation, possibly with new conditions. Novatio naturally cancels everything related to the former obligation, for instance, if the payment of the first debt was in delay, the payment of the new debt is not.

Another way to get a debt cleared is to get someone else to pay it. If this transfer of debt has been agreed with the new person, Wolff calls it delegatio, while by assignatio he refers to a case, where the debtor just assigns someone else to pay the debt (for this to work, the assigned person must be in debt to the original debtor). In a sense, delegatio is a much more assured arrangement: in delegatio, if the new person eventually does not pay the debt, the original debtor is still freed of the obligation, but with assignatio creditor can always get their due from the original debtor, if the new debtor does not want to pay.

In an extensive part of the chapter Wolff deals with the question of disputes concerning rights (jus controversum), that is, cases where two or more persons declare that they have the right to something, although only one of them could do so. Such disputes might arise, for instance, with illiquid debts, where it is unclear who exactly owes and what. Simplest way to end the dispute is what Wolff calls amicabilis compositio, in which one party of the dispute declares that they will want nothing of the disputed thing, even without any compensation. A similar case where some compensation is given or at least it is promised, Wolff calls transactio. Wolff notes that neither in amicabilis compositio nor in transactio is it really decided, who has the right to the disputed thing - a claimant just gives up their possible right to the thing. Even if later it would be found out that the claimant truly had the right to the thing, they would not retrieve that right anymore. In case of transactio, of course, if the claimant is not provided what they have been promised, they can renew their claim on the disputed thing.

Disputes on rights might lead the claimants to hold a tractatus. Tractatus does not mean an end to the dispute, but is merely a process in which the pros and cons of the various claimants are considered. Tractatus might also lead to a suggestion for settling the dispute, such as amicabilis compositio or transactio, but as such it does not obligate anyone, before all the parties have agreed to the terms suggested. Although tractatus as such creates no obligations, Wolff clarifies, all the parties are morally obligated to consider the various pros and cons in a fair and equitable manner.

Wolff clarifies that in addition to claimants, other people can also be involved in tractatus, if their council could help to settle the case. An important example is the mediator, who is a person obligated to find some agreement on the dispute. Thus, the mediator has to impartially weigh all the claims to the disputed thing and on the basis of these considerations offer a suggestion to settle the dispute. The suggestion of the mediator has to be founded on what truly is the case, not on what would benefit the various parties. The mediator can make only suggestions, and if any of the parties refuses to accept, it does not become a valid agreement.

An arbiter, Wolff explains, has a slightly more powerful position than a mediator. An arbiter is decided by compromissum between the disputants, that is, by a mutual agreement that they will accept the decision of the arbiter as a truth. The chosen arbiter is then not just obligated to suggest an agreement between all the claimants, but to decide upon the truth of their claims. Because of the compromissum, no single claimant can nullify the decision of the arbiter, but such a cancellation of compromissum requires yet another mutual agreement between the claimants. Wolff notes that even after the arbiter’s decision of the real owner, claimants can still choose to settle the dispute in a different manner, for instance, by a transactio in which one claimant pays some compensation for the real owner, if they give up their ownership. Still, arbiters have more power in their hands than mere mediators. Thus, they should be not just impartial, but what Wolff calls vir bonus, that is, persons known to be honorable and acquainted with what is truly good and just. They should avoid even the semblance of dishonesty and therefore decline, if one of the claimants offered a reward for a decision on their behalf, before the decision. Wolff admits that the arbiter can accept a reward, if there’s no possibility of a suspicion that it would have affected the decision, for instance, if all the parties agreed in the comprossimum that the winner of the dispute should reward the arbiter.

In addition to the claims of the parties, there might be other relevant pieces of evidence to consider in a dispute. One type of these, Wolff notes, is instrumentum, that is, a document describing what persons negotiating a contract have agreed upon. If a person is obligated to do or provide something in instrumentum, it must be signed by that person. Only the original instrumentum is to be accepted as evidence, Wolff says, unless the validity of the copy is confirmed by trustworthy persons. Even the validity of the original, signed instrumentum can be contested, Wolff adds, if a signatory can show that she has been deceitfully induced to sign it without reading. A possible evidence for such deceit is protocollum, that is, a memorandum on the main points to be written in intstrumentum. Signatories can also refuse to accept instrumentum made from charta blanca - a piece of paper containing nothing but the signature - if they would have never agreed to the terms written on it.

In addition to written documents, other physical objects might be used as evidence for deciding a dispute. Wolff gives as an example bacilla fissa. This is essentially a wooden stick, divided in two halves: to one half is made notches, indicating how much a person is obligated to provide, while similar notches are made to the other half, when a part of the debt is provided. By comparing the two halves, it is easy to see how much of the debt is still left.

In some cases disputes must be solved through witness accounts - Wolff points out that especially in cases where a person was obligated to do something, witnesses are the only possible proof for a person having worked. Witnesses are not expected to speak what is true in the logical sense, Wolff explains, but only what is morally true, that is, what they believe to be true. Of course, they are also supposed to be acquainted with the facts, in order that their testimony has any relevance. In a best case, witness is vir bonus, that is, as trustworthy as can be. On the other hand, witnesses who have been bribed should not be believed. In a refreshingly progressive fashion, Wolff notes that women can as well be reliable witnesses. Then again, relatives of the parties involved should not usually be accepted to give their testimony. Wolff believes that the reliability of witnesses can be strengthened by oaths, because the fear of divine punishments might make people hesitant to lie. In general, Wolff adds, only one witness is not enough to prove anything.

If all else fails, disputes over rights can be settled with a lot, Wolff admits. On the other hand, he expressly forbids settling disputes with duels or physical attacks, because the life of other people should be respected. If a legal dispute turns into a state of war, all participants should aim to find a more peaceful solution.

If the ownership of something is in dispute, Wolff notes, claimants are not allowed to force the possessor of the thing to yield it. This is true, even if a claimant knows for certain that they are the rightful owner - the ownership must be first proved by documents, witnesses etc. On the other hand, if the ownership is not in dispute, the owner can force the possessor to yield the thing. In the case the possessor does not want to give the thing, Wolff says, the owner can enforce what is called expletio juris, in other word, they can take from the possessor something else. This something else should be either equal in value to what is owned, or if it is more expensive, the owner has to provide the possessor compensation for the surplus. The owner has to then provide the possessor enough time to consider whether they want to return the originally owed thing or whether they want to accept the removal of the other thing.

The final topic Wolff considers in this chapter is precarium, by which he means a contract, whereby an owner concedes use of a thing to another person, without any payment and for as long as the owner wishes. Obviously, the thing in question cannot be such that it would be consumed by use, but something more permanent, for instance, when a person relinquishes a house for use to a friend. As the name of the contract indicates, the use allowed is precarious - as soon as the owner wants, the thing in question must be returned to their possession. Wolff mentions two other possibilities of how precarium could end. Firstly, if the person enjoying the use of the thing dies, precarium ends: thus, it is not something inherited through generations. Secondly, precarium could end by consolidatio, that is, by the user acquiring also the ownership of the thing. Interestingly, Wolff thinks that if the owner relinquishes the ownership of the person to a third person, precarium is not as such terminated. Of course, the new owner has the right to revoke precarium, but before that, the thing can be used as before.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - As it were a contract

Wolff’s next topic is quasi contracts. These are no real contracts, but in a sense mere fictions. That is, in a quasi contract, the consent of a person for something is just assumed. In other words, there is not even a tacit consent, which might be implied e.g. by the actions of the person in question. Such a fictitious contract is valid, Wolff notes, only if her consent cannot be asked. For instance, if a student wants to buy some books, but cannot verify from her parents, whether she can use their money for this purchase, she might still have a right to assume that they would consent to it. Similar quasi contracts can be made, Wolff continues, if the person in question is underage or otherwise incapable of giving consent.

A particular type of quasi contract Wolff calls negotiorum gestio. In effect, this means a quasi mandate, where a person called gestor handles some affair for another person assuming that this other person would mandate her to do it, if he just knew about it. This type of contract, Wolff notes, is valid only if what gestor does is useful to the other person and if not doing it would cause some economic damage to the other person - for instance, gestor could hire someone to fix a building owned by the other, which was damaged in a fire. Gestor is also bound by strict rules: she can only do what the other person could be assumed to do in a similar situation and she has to explain her reasons for doing whatever she has done for the other. Gestor also cannot at the same time handle her own and the other person’s businesses, which would imply e.g. that she took advantage of the other’s property for her own sake. Then again, gestor shouldn’t be assumed to freely donate her time and effort for the other’s sake, but the other person is obligated to honour the gestor with some reward.

Similar quasi versions of other forms of contract can also appear in exceptional circumstances, Wolff notes. For instance, if something like food has been left for safekeeping and it is in danger of becoming spoiled, the custodian can do a quasi loan, by consuming the food and preparing to return something similar, when she meets the owner. Similarly, if a person holds a thing that is to be sold by the owner and she herself suddenly needs it, she can do a quasi purchase and prepare to pay the owner later what the owner would have suggested as a price.

Wolff also notes the possibility of quasi societas, that is, people becoming part of a same company-like project without consenting to forming such a company. Wolff calls such quasi societas also communio incidens, emphasising that members of this quasi society have incidentally received common obligations. A simple example of such communio incidens is people inheriting some piece of property that they must administer in common. Quasi societas can turn into an actual societas by members of the quasi societas agreeing on how to administer the common obligations.

A curious form of quasi contract rises in relation to what Wolff calls indebitum. Indebitum is, simply taken, something that is not a debt - in other words, if you pay indebitum, you erroneously pay something that you need not have paid or you pay it to a wrong person, to whom you do not owe it. A person receiving such erroneous payment is then under a quasi contract, whereby she has to return what was given, once she notices the error. Of course, she might have handed the thing further, and then it belongs to the person it was handed to. In such a case, she must at least give something equal in value to the original owner.

A case that might seem similar and thus involve a quasi contract is linked to notions of ob causam dari and causa non sequi. By ob causam dari Wolff means simply giving something in order to get the receiving person give or do something in return - for instance, paying a worker to fix a car. Causa non sequi refers then to a situation where this receiving person fails to do what she had to do. In this case, the receiving person should return what was given to her, just like in the case of indebitum. Yet, this obligation is no quasi contract, Wolff says, because by refusing to do what she should have done, she already has tacitly consented to returning what was given.

Wolff notes that accepting an erroneous payment of indebitum is a particular example of a more general notion of unknowingly accepting something sine causa, that is, accepting something that one doesn’t have a right to accept. In addition to accepting indebitum, Wolff notes, examples of accepting sine causa include all cases where something is accepted as a payment for something that is impossible or against the natural law. Now, if someone accepts sine causa without knowing it, she can be presumed to want to return what was given to her, if she just knew she shouldn’t have accepted it. Thus, she is under a quasi contract.

A related case is what Wolff calls accepting something quasi sine causa. In such a case, accepting itself is in accordance with the natural law, but keeping what was accepted is not. A good example happens, when a person has accepted something for a future business, which then fails to become a reality. After such quasi sine causa accepting, the person receiving the payment is obligated to return the payment to the owner. Yet, this obligation forms no quasi contract, because the person accepting tacitly assumes with this very act of accepting the obligation to return the payment.

Wolff also briefly considers contractus mixtus, in other words, contracts composed of other contracts; for instance, he notes, if a tenant farmer pays the rent of the land with a ratio of the produce of the land, the contract between the farmer and the owner is a mix of a locatio conductio (in this case, rent of something) and societas (because both the farmer and the owner share in the produce of the land). As Wolff himself also says, the primary interest does not lie in the numerous ways in which one can combine different types of contract, but in the general principle that this is possible and that the characteristics of the new contract can then be deduced from the characteristics of the components.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 5 - Chances are

While the first chapter of the book felt like a mash of all sorts of leftover contracts, second chapter has a clear thematic unity, namely, contracts involving chance. Wolff notes at once how problematic such contracts are, because the people making such a contract can never really be sure, whether the contract will be fulfilled. Thus, he concludes, if what is to be gained by such a contract can be achieved in some other manner, this other manner should be preferred.

Wolff begins his account of more specific types of contract with a contract that actually does not involve chance, namely, one in which a person buys divination services from another. One might think that such a contract does involve chance, since in an act of divination does something with a fortuitous result - e.g. when a diviner chooses an arbitrary animal, she cannot know beforehand what sort of entrails it has. Still, Wolff notes, what is sold is not the arbitrary result of the divination, but the very act of divination, which is not in the same sense fortuitous.

Furthermore, Wolff remarks that the act of divination has no real connection with the future it is supposed to predict - for instance, no physical law combines the entrails of an animal with the fate of a person and neither can we suppose that God would have decreed such an arbitrary connection. Thus, Wolff concludes,divination is nothing but fraud and therefore forbidden by natural law.

An example of a contract that truly involves chance is such where a lot is used to determine e.g. which person is to get what portion of a divided land that they all have a share of. Wolff notes that such a contract is valid, if all the persons involved accept it and if there is no clear reason to determine the exact portions which everyone should own. After the lot has been determined, the ownership becomes fixed.

A more suspect form of a contract involving chance, according to Wolff, is provided by lottery and other games of chance, in which e.g. a person pays for a right to spin a wheel of fortune. Such games are externally valid, yet, Wolff adds, if the aim of the game has been mainly to gain profit, they do not agree with the true end of humans. Lotteries can accord with human duty, Wolff admits, if the profits are used for the sake of other people or for the glory of God. Furthermore, the organiser of the lottery can use some of the money gained to pay for the expenses of the lottery, including her own work.

A related type of contract is one where people agree on participating on a contest, after which the prize is awarded to the winner of the contest. Such a contest could involve only pure chance, but it can also depend on the intellect, strength or dexterity of the contestants. The former case, which also includes all kinds of bets, is again forbidden by natural law, because entering such a contest could have no other purpose, but to gain profits. Contests involving also intellectual or physical faculties are a different question, since they also help to train these faculties, Wolff admits. Even so, if entering such a contest requires financial investment, all contestants should have a surplus of money that they can spare for such a purpose.

An obvious example of a contract involving chance is insurance, in which one side of the contract pays for the other to gain assurance that in case something happens to a thing owned by the first side, the other side will pay an agreed sum. Wolff does not mention insurances in general, but he does mention one specific type of it, where the insured thing is transported by ocean or through some other perilous area. Such a contract, Wolff concludes, is quite acceptable and in accordance with natural law.

Wolff thinks it important to emphasise that insurance does not mean the same thing as usury - the amount of money received from an insurance is not dependent on the time between the accident and the handing of the money. Wolff does describe contracts combining in a sense usury and insurance: foenus nauticum, in which interest is paid for the use of money delivered by sea, and foenus quasi nauticum, where the delivery is made through other dangerous terrain. In these types of contracts the interest paid should be more than regular interest, to accommodate the dangers of travel.

Another contract involving both chance and nautical affairs is what Wolff calls bodemereia. In effect, this is a contract where a person invests a specific sum of money to a ship with the condition that she will gain some profit, if the ship arrives safely at port, but loses her investment, if it doesn’t. Ship’s captain, Wolff notes, is allowed to make a bodemereia -contract, if he has otherwise difficulties in raising money for a sailing trip.

A similar business investment involving fortuitous circumstances is pars metallica or kuckus. In effect, this is a contract involving a share or a partial ownership in a mine. Since the owner of such a share cannot by herself dig and prepare the metal belonging to her in particular, she is obligated to share the costs of digging and preparing metal. These costs and the possible profits are divided in the ratio of the shares of the owners. Since it is up to chance, whether a mine will produce enough metal for covering the expenses of mining, Wolff advises that only people with plenty of money to spare should buy mining shares. Still, since the ownership of the shares is completely independent of the ownership of other shares, owners can sell their shares and get their money back from them without the agreement of other owners. If instead people agree upon a joint ownership of a mine, this means founding of a mining company, from which owners can get rid of only by finding another person to take their place in the company board.

Wolff also describes a more generalised version of a contract, in which a person buys an ownership to some uncertain product of an action - he calls it emtio spei, which in its literal sense means purchase of expectations. If the action does not result in the desired product or the expectations fail, the price paid will still not be given back. Thus, Wolff concludes that emtio spei can rarely be accepted in natural law and that it should especially be avoided if the product desired could be bought at a reasonable price somewhere else.

An interesting form of contract Wolff discusses in this chapter is contractum vitalitium, in which one person buys from another what is called reditus vitalitium, that is, a right to annually receive some things or some type of work or obligation from the seller for as long as a certain person lives, where the person in question can be the buyer, the seller or someone completely different. In a sense, we might equate this type of contract with pension, although what is provided for the buyer is not necessarily money: for instance, it might be a certain ratio of some products. Furthermore, Wolff thinks that reditus vitalitium or pension can be donated or sold again by its buyer, although then also the possible death of the original buyer will end the pension.

Is contractus vitalitium in accordance with natural law? Wolff’s general answer is affirmative, on the condition that the provided pension helps the buyer to fulfill some natural duty toward oneself or others. For instance, if the pension helps the buyer to pay for necessities of life, it most certainly is in accordance with natural law.